10. The Proposal
Samantha
“No, no, no, definitely not that one!”
Emelyne bursts out laughing as she rejects my third option.
She dives into my wardrobe like it’s a creative workshop and emerges triumphantly with the flowing midnight-blue dress.
In a few expert gestures, she builds the look: the fitted black coat to give structure, the plum scarf for contrast, the heeled boots for elegance.
Sitting on my bed, she directs the makeup operations.
“A light line of eyeliner to make those gorgeous eyes pop, and a bit of lipstick to highlight those full lips. I want him to feel like devouring you when he looks at you,” she adds, smiling. “There. You’re stunning.”
I have to admit—this girl is doing wonders for my ego.
When we return to the living room, the voices fall silent.
But the only approval I’m waiting for is Alexander’s.
He looks at me and swallows.
“You’re beautiful, Sam,” he says.
My heart skips a beat. When his eyes roam over me like that, I almost let myself believe it—but I can’t forget.
We’re just playing a game.
A dangerous one.
All six of us pile into a taxi van.
Alexander sits beside me; his thigh brushes mine at every turn. I can feel the warmth of his body through our clothes. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can hear it.
He’s strangely silent during the entire ride. I realize how hard this must be for him, even if he doesn’t show it. He stares out the window, jaw tight, eyes lost in the passing scenery. Paris lights up—shop windows, streetlamps, golden facades—but he sees none of it.
Just yesterday, he thought he was going to propose to Kristel.
Today, he’s about to stage an engagement with her half-sister.
Even if he’s fighting for his company, the wounded man inside him probably wants nothing more than to curl up and disappear from the world for a while.
I reach out and take his hand. My fingers slip between his, hesitant, offering silent comfort.
He doesn’t look at me, but his fingers tighten around mine. Hard. Like he’s clinging to a lifeline.
The taxi drops us off on the Trocadéro esplanade.
And immediately, I understand that Emelyne was right. The view is breathtaking.
The sun is setting behind the Eiffel Tower, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and mauve. The gardens are almost empty. In the middle of November, at this hour, we’re practically alone.
“Wow…” David breathes.
“The light is perfect,” Emelyne confirms, delighted. “The photos are going to be stunning.”
Alexander checks the time on his phone.
“We’ve got an hour before it gets completely dark.”
“More than enough,” Oliver assures him.
“You’ve got the ring?” he asks his brother.
My stomach knots.
The ring.
The one he’d bought for Kristel.
The irony is cruel.
“Yes,” Alexander replies, pulling a small box from his leather backpack.
My hands grow clammy. In a few minutes, that ring—meant for my sister—will be on my finger. For a few months.
“Stand over there,” Emelyne directs. “We’ll have the Eiffel Tower in the background. Perfect.”
We obey, awkward and stiff, unsure how to position ourselves.
“Breathe,” Mara says. “You look like you’re about to be executed.”
I let out a nervous laugh.
“Get into the mood,” Emelyne continues. “You spent the afternoon at the Rodin Museum. You strolled around, laughed together… You’re happy. Relaxed. Alexander, question for you: what’s Sam’s favorite artwork?”
He smiles, his first real smile in two days.
“Easy. The Waltz, by Camille Claudel.”
My heart leaps. He remembers.
“Sam, and Alexander’s favorite?”
I shoot Alexander a teasing look.
“The Messenger of the Gods, obviously.”
“What?!” he chokes. “You’re going to make them think I’m a pervert!”
“Aren’t you?”
“Sam!”
“And yet, you stood in front of The Eternal Idol for twenty minutes…”
“That’s different!” he protests. “That sculpture is beautiful. You can feel the love… the man’s adoration for his partner.”
His cheeks flush slightly, as if he realizes he’s revealing too much. It’s adorable.
“Stop,” Mara teases. “Save that for your honeymoon.”
“Mara!” I protest, horrified.
But the tension is gone. The atmosphere has warmed.
“Ready?” Oliver asks, camera in hand.
“Yes,” we answer, this time with more enthusiasm.
“Perfect,” David says. “Alexander, your turn.”
Alexander drops to one knee, and the world freezes.
The wind. The passersby. The sound of traffic. Everything disappears.
There’s only him, kneeling in front of me, looking up into my eyes.
My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
He opens the box, and I’m speechless.
The ring isn’t the one meant for Kristel.
It’s another one. Delicate. Elegant.
A round solitaire set in gold, with three tiny diamonds on each side.
“But… how?”
My voice is barely a whisper.
“The shop owner owed me a favor,” he explains. “I wanted to give you one that looks like you: beautiful and radiant, without any artifice.”
What he says reaches straight into my soul. No one knows me better than he does.
Slowly, he removes the ring from the box. The diamond catches the last rays of the setting sun, scattering light.
“Sam, will you marry me?” he asks, his voice rough, his face lifted toward mine.
Life is so cruel. I’ve dreamed of this moment for years, and now that it’s happening, it’s fake. My heart breaks as I answer:
“Yes.”
He takes my trembling hand and slowly slides the ring onto my ring finger. The metal is cool against my skin. It fits perfectly.
And when he looks up at me, I see a vulnerability that tightens my chest.
Is he thinking about Kristel right now?
Of course he is.
“And now the kiss!” David calls out.
“What?!”
My voice comes out too high. Panicked.
Alexander stands, and for a moment we face each other in silence.
Him—tall, so close I can smell his scent: cedarwood and something deeper, unmistakably masculine.
He lifts a hand, brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers, then tilts my chin up.
His skin is warm against mine. Blood pounds in my temples, my breath catches in my throat.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, so softly only I can hear. “It’s just a kiss.”
No. It’s not just a kiss.
It’s the kiss I’ve been waiting for my entire life. But to him, it means nothing.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he whispers, giving me the choice.
He isn’t forcing me, and I know that if I refuse, he’ll respect it and find another solution.
“We’ll do it.”
A gentle smile curves his lips. Then he leans in slowly.
I see his eyes close. I close mine. And his lips touch mine.
My heart stops.
They’re soft. Warm. Hesitant at first, like he’s testing, exploring.
Then surer.
His other hand settles at the small of my back, pulling me closer. My body ignites at the contact.
It’s… it’s… my God.
Then his tongue brushes my lips, asking permission to enter.
A shiver runs through me from head to toe.
My breath falters. I feel suspended over a void.
My hands find his chest, clutch his shirt. I need something to hold onto, or I’ll fall.
A soft, barely audible moan escapes my mouth.
And the sound seems to fuel him.
He deepens the kiss.
I feel like he’s tearing my soul from my body.
I melt against him, craving more. My arms wrap around his neck. My fingers tangle in his hair. I press myself against him, wanting to erase all space between us.
He responds by tightening his hold. His heart is racing as fast as mine.
When we finally part, breathless, it takes me a moment to come back to earth.
The world returns. The noise. The lights. The people.
Oh my God! What just happened?
My cheeks burn.
Alexander looks at me, eyes wide, breath unsteady. His lips are swollen. His hair tousled by my fingers.
He looks just as shaken as I feel.
“That was perfect!” Emelyne shouts. “Damn, girls, I’ve got chills! These photos are going to be incredible!”
Mara checks the videos on her phone.
“All good. The footage is flawless,” she confirms.
“In that case, we can head out,” David concludes.
Oliver says nothing, but his gaze flicks between Alexander and me, worried.
Alexander steps a few paces away, as if to put distance between us, suddenly aware of what just happened.
Unease spreads through me.
Does he regret it?
When his phone rings, he looks at the screen and his expression freezes.
His eyes lift to mine before he answers.
“Good evening, Kristel.”